The PartTimer
by MayzyGreen
Summary: Usagi finds herself in dire need of some cash and only Mamoru and Motoki can help. First Season Romance. Complete!


Disclaimer: I own Sailor Moon.

Ok, ok... you got me.

I don't own Sailor Moon.

_This story is dedicated to Angel whose relentless bludgeoning did not make me write more Sailor Moon, but at least made me feel guilty for my neglect. Happy birthday, Gelly. I adore you. _

The Part-Timer

Danika Lareyna

There is no time in a schoolgirl's life that is quite so joyous as the first day of summer vacation. This particular first day of summer vacation, it was widely agreed, was one of the loveliest in many years. The sun shone bright on the citizens of Tokyo and there was just enough of a cooling breeze to keep them comfortable. Birds sang praises to the wonders of nature from every treetop and the few clouds that adorned the gorgeous blue sky were fluffy, white and constantly slipped from one fanciful form to another. Good cheer seemed infectious; every person passed on the street would smile and wish you well. Children laughed and played, adults forgot responsibility and worry for a few precious hours, and all of Tokyo seemed to glow with contentment. It was the perfect day.

Usagi could be forgiven, then, for being somewhat over-exuberant that day. And it really was not her fault that she had wandered into the shop owned by the one person in the Juuban District who was immune to sunshine and birdsong. Really, none of it was her fault. The fates had simply aligned against her or some deity of luck had chosen to unleash its frustrations upon her. There was no way anyone could blame her for tripping over her own two feet and falling into that display case full porcelain clowns. Who likes porcelain clowns, anyway? And yet the grumpy shopkeeper _had_ blamed her and pointed out that the display had been clearly labeled.

"You break it, you buy it."

xXx

"And now," the young blonde wailed, "I have to come up with enough money to pay for the _whole_ case by the end of the week!" Usagi was curled in her favorite booth at the Crown Arcade; Motoki leaned sympathetically over her while Mamoru sat opposite with a bored expression on his face. She had a slightly melted butterscotch sundae before her, on the house because Motoki could never resist a crying girl. With a little sniffling hiccup, Usagi continued, "I told my dad what happened and he didn't help at _all_. He said it was a 'lesson in being responsible for my actions' and told me I'd have to earn the money."

"And if you don't?" Mamoru drawled, looking for all the world as if he could not care less.

Fresh tears sprang into Usagi's eyes, "Then he'll pay but I have to pay him back- _twice_ the original amount!"

The girl's face scrunched up and began turning red again. Sensing the oncoming of more ear-piercing shrieks, Motoki attempted to cut them short by asking, "What are you going to do?"

"I don't know..." she whimpered. Her face lit and she looked up to regard both men with large, pleading eyes. "Unless, of course, someone was to lend the money to me," she said, hopefully. Both men quickly averted their gazes, aware of the mind-altering abilities Usagi's puppy-dog eyes had.

Motoki grinned at the blonde helplessly, "Sorry, Usagi, if I had money to spare I wouldn't be slaving away here for my father." He lifted a hand, indicating the arcade full of beeping, honking and blaring music. Behind him a small child, who had obviously had too much sugar, ran at full speed, screaming at the top of his lungs, into one of the game machines. Motoki just sighed as the child fell on his back, dazed.

Usagi's face fell and her lower lip trembled.

"I'd be glad to let you borrow the money," Mamoru said.

Usagi looked up at Mamoru with a dumbfounded expression. Her wide, incredulous eyes jumped back and forth between being grateful and being skeptical. "You will?" she asked in a little squeak.

"Sure, Odango-Atama," he replied, "Of course... then you'd owe me _triple_ the original amount." He smirked at her suddenly furious expression. Fortunately, for the ears of everyone in the arcade, she seemed to have been rendered speechless with rage and unable to scream at him.

Motoki shot a frustrated glare at his best friend. "I've got an idea," the blond young man said. "I could use a little extra help around here. Since you're out of school, you could work for me for a couple hours a day. Would that help?"

Mamoru's eyes widened slightly and he sat up straighter. Usagi's face lit but fell when the dark-haired young man interjected, "Working a couple hours a day will be a start, but you will never make enough in one week to pay back as much as you owe. But... I might be willing to hire you to do a few chores for me." He gave Motoki a triumphant look but was met by a bemused arch of the brow from his friend.

"That... would be... really nice," Usagi said hesitantly. "Um... what kind of chores are we talking about here?"

He grinned at her wickedly, "Oh, you know, the usual. Wash my dishes, scrub my toilet, organize and catalogue my exotic mold collection..."

The young woman's expression grew successively darker and at his last suggestion, she made a disgusted face. Turning her eyes from him she glared at her butterscotch sundae, now melted beyond recognition. She clenched her hands until she could feel her perfectly painted, shimmering pink fingernails dig into her palms. In a low growl she muttered, "Fine."

"_What?_" Motoki exclaimed. Mamoru smirked, crossing his arms in a self-satisfied manner.

Without moving, Usagi grumbled, "He's right. I'll never get enough money if I don't work for both of you. I don't have any choice." She raised her head defiantly, "But Motoki gets first choice of when I work for him." Mamoru nodded amiably. "_And_," the girl continued, "I'm not doing anything _perverted._"

Usagi grinned in wicked satisfaction as Mamoru seemed to choke on his own tongue. Hopping to her feet, in a considerably better mood than she had been upon entering the arcade, she chirped, "What time would you like me here tomorrow, Motoki?"

Motoki was nervously watching his friend to see whether he would have to administer the Heimlich Maneuver. Distractedly, he answered, "I guess I need you most around the lunch rush. So how about noon to three?"

She nodded and turned to the rapidly purpling Mamoru, "You can meet me here at three, ok?" Choosing to take his silence for affirmation rather than asphyxiation, she turned on her heel and skipped from the arcade. Her blond pigtails fluttered behind her and she whistled a lively tune. Just before she exited the Arcade, she glanced back at the two men. With a wicked gleam in her eyes, ruined only slightly by the bright blush forming on her cheeks, she whispered under her breath, "Well, maybe I would do something like that if you asked _really _nicely, Mamochan." Giggling and mentally berating herself for thinking such things of the dark-haired (undeniably sexy) man, she continued out into the lingering sunshine.

Back in the booth, Mamoru was finally able to get oxygen to his brain. Motoki regarded him with a curious expression on his face. After a moment, he tucked his hands casually into his apron pockets and said, "Usagi's a great girl, isn't she? Really special."

Mamoru's eyes narrowed suspiciously, "What do you mean?"

Motoki ran his fingers through his sandy-brown hair, a little color rising in his cheeks. "I was just thinking," he said, slowly, "I mean, she's always been awfully affectionate to me, you know? She's really pretty and cheerful, too... maybe I should try to get closer to her."

A cold, sick sensation settled into the pit of Mamoru's stomach. Looking his friend up and down, he said, "What about Reika?"

Motoki's blush deepened and he waved his hand, "She's decided we need some time apart. I don't know, I like her well enough but she's always so... serious. I'm more care-free; I don't think we're very compatible with each other."

Mamoru shook his head, his eyes dark, "I'm sorry to hear that, Man, but I don't think the Odango-Atama is right for you either."

"No? She seems to think so."

"Usagi would never _really_ fall for you," Mamoru stated with surprising vehemence. "She's too loyal; she would never do that to me."

Motoki arched a brow, "You two are together?"

His friend barked a laugh, "Of course, didn't you realize? Usako and I are madly in love with each other. We're destined to be together forever."

Motoki crossed his arms and looked skeptical, "You guys sure hide it well."

Mamoru could not restrain the small sigh that escaped his lips. He leaned back in the booth and crossed his arms behind his head, looking up at the Arcade ceiling. Slowly, he replied, "That's the thing, isn't it? We're made for each other... she just doesn't know it yet."

Motoki's eyes softened and he took Usagi's prior seat, across from his best friend. In a low, sympathetic voice, Motoki said, "Look, Mamoru, I know you've got a thing for Usagi but, I mean, you treat her like a complete jerk! If you can't even tell her how you feel, it's not fair of you to expect me to ignore my feelings for her."

Mamoru found himself unable to look at his friend; he turned his eyes to the wall and tried to look apathetic. Motoki reached across the small table and laid a hand on Mamoru's shoulder. "Hey," he said, "We're both adults here, right? So I'll tell you what we'll do. We will give it a week. Usagi is going to be spending a lot of time with both of us, right? So after she's done working for us, we'll let her decide for herself. No hard feelings for whoever she chooses, ok?"

Shrugging Motoki's hand from his shoulder, Mamoru stood. He smiled confidently and said, "I hate to tell you this, but you've already lost. All that time she spends fawning over you? It's just an act to hide her true feelings for me. Same as the way I treat her. Once she realizes we're soul-mates there won't be anything able to keep us apart."

"If you say so," Motoki replied, standing as well. Before turning back to the counter, he said, "Five days, Mamoru, then I ask Usagi on a date."

Mamoru snorted his acquiescence and headed out of the Arcade. Just before he had passed the large glass window, which opened in on the whirling, beeping frenzy of videogames, the young man glanced in at his friend, the handsome arcade manager over whom girl regularly swooned. A tiny crease of worry marred Mamoru's forehead, right between his brows.

xXx

DAY ONE

xXx

Mamoru sulked as he watched Usagi flit about the arcade, taking orders, making change, refilling drinks, and liberally offering advice to those playing the machines. Motoki had insisted that anyone working in the Crown wear an apron, but the normal one, worn by all of the other employees, had wrapped twice around her petite frame and then dragged on the floor. A little digging in the storeroom had produced a small, frilly apron of baby blue. Motoki had explained that it had been his sister's back when she was in elementary school. Usagi had pouted at first, but a charming smile and being informed that it brought out her eyes had found Usagi twirling and modeling the bit of cloth before the arcade manager.

Mamoru had come early and staked himself out on a stool at the end of the counter. He had lost count of how many cups of coffee he had gone through by the time Usagi had come for her shift; but if the jittery way his hands clenched the latest cup were any indication, it was too many. Upon her arrival, he had studiously pretended that it was a complete coincidence that he had decided to come to the arcade four and a half hours earlier than usual that day and had nothing whatsoever to do with her. She had looked at him curiously for a moment, but shrugged his presence off and approached Motoki for her instructions.

She had taken to the work with a grace and efficiency that had, quite frankly, shocked Mamoru. The customers, most of whom had already known Usagi, seemed to love her. Every time she scooped up an overly large tip, she would shoot a self-satisfied smirk at him. Every time a young man smiled winningly at Usagi and left her said overly large tip he would receive a death-glare from both Mamoru and Motoki. Somehow, that did not deter the next lovesick young man.

When, at last, three o'clock rolled around and Usagi hung up her little blue apron, she discovered Mamoru waiting impatiently by the exit. His arms were crossed grouchily in front of him, a dark scowl was on his face, and he even went so far as to tap his foot impatiently. She took in his body language and glanced at the clock significantly, its hands were exactly on the twelve and the three. He rolled his eyes and nodded imperatively towards the door but, just as she turned to follow his directions, his eyes widened. "Uh... hang on a sec..." he murmured and, with an oddly quick pace, made his way towards the back of the arcade.

When he finally returned, Usagi smirked at him wickedly and said, "That's what you get for drinking four pots of coffee."

He glared and ushered her out the door.

xXx

The pair strolled along the sidewalk, side by side, in silence. Usagi kept her gaze on her toes, a look of anxious anticipation on her face. It occurred to her that she really did not have any idea into what she was getting herself. What horrible, disgusting chores could he have for her? What jobs could he even possess which he was willing to pay her to do? She glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes and blushed lightly. As much as she had made in tips at the Crown, she probably did not need to work for him after all. Internally kicking herself, she realized she would do whatever task he asked so long as it meant she could stay near him.

Usagi was trying to convince herself that maybe, just maybe, his offer to hire her was a sign that he did not hate her as much as it seemed and maybe, just maybe, her infatuation with him was not hopeless, when a piece of paper was thrust under her nose. She stopped short, blinking down at the sheet uncertainly. She turned to look up at him curiously. Mamoru frowned and shoved the paper into her hands.

"What's this?" she asked, looking it over.

"What does it look like, Odango-Atama? It's a grocery list."

With a slightly hopeful look, she said, "I thought you wanted me to clean your toilet and...?" She trailed off, noting the amused look he was giving her.

"I keep my toilet practically clean enough to eat out of, thank you very much," he said. "And do you really think I'm the type to have an exotic mold collection?"

Shrugging with embarrassment and thinking that if anyone were the type to have an exotic mold collection it was him, she returned her eyes to the list. "So you want me to get your groceries?" She flipped the list over, amazed at the variety and length. Did he only shop once a month?

"No. You're going to _help_ me shop. You think I trust a fluff-head like you to get the right brands and everything?"

Glowering at him, while secretly jumping for joy at the thought of shopping together, she said, "Well then why do you need me, Baka?"

His face split in a nasty grin, "I need _someone _to carry the fifty-pound bags of rice, don't I?"

xXx

The grocery store he led her to was par for the course. Neither the giant mega-corporation-type, which was taking over the world, nor the personal street vendor who knew exactly what shade of green you liked your cantaloupes. It was just... a grocery store. Usagi glanced at Mamoru out of the corner of her eye, somewhat disappointed on one level that not every aspect of her blue-eyed dream was utterly unique and magical and at the same time cheered that this sign of humanity made her feel a little less overwhelmed by his presence.

She frowned at herself. Since when did Usagi Tsukino ever let some boy overwhelm her? Sure, he was brilliant, wealthy, profound and drop-dead gorgeous, but it was not as if he was the Prince of the Earth or something. How dare he make her feel like a shy schoolgirl?

Shaking these thoughts off, she reached for a shopping cart. Mamoru's hand on her wrist stopped her short. Usagi dared not turn to question him for fear he would see her blush at his touch. Her query was answered in that moment of hesitation anyway as a woman entered and grabbed the cart Usagi had been reaching for. The cart squealed loudly in protest of the movement and tried to wrest control from the woman as two of its wheels spun wildly in two different directions.

Mamoru smirked at Usagi (raising another blush from the poor girl) and swept a welcoming gesture towards the next cart in line. Usagi took it without a word and quickly made her way into the store, the cart gliding effortlessly and soundlessly before her.

xXx

"What's next on the list, Odango?"

"Um... cereal. What kind do you want?"

Without a word, he plucked his chosen box from the highest shelf and tossed it into the rapidly filling cart. She snorted, "Cap'n Crunch?"

"_Peanut Butter_ Cap'n Crunch," he replied, defensively.

Usagi giggled and decided that now was not the time to go into a debate over whether Crunch Berries were superior to Peanut Butter Crunch or not. Obviously, they were, but the red in Mamoru's face told her that he was wishing he had picked Grape Nuts or Wheaties and she should enjoy his flustered state while it lasted.

xXx

Usagi grumbled under her breath and checked her watch _again_. The man had been debating between two eggplants for the last fifteen minutes. Ok, two minutes and forty-three seconds, but it seemed like fifteen. "Who the heck cares about eggplants?" she muttered, leaning back against a display case.

Unfortunately, her chosen backrest was the home of a large collection of very round, very precariously perched peaches. A low, ominous rumble sounded from the depths of the display. Before Usagi could even squeak and jump aside, she found herself being grabbed and swung out of the way by one of Mamoru's large hands, while the other was busy snagging no less than five peaches out of thin air and reestablishing solidity to the display. Two eggplants, her brain idly noted, lay abandoned on the shelf.

The dark-haired young man turned back to her, having saved the girl and the display without a single casualty. She was still huddled against his side, breathless, with one of his arms behind her back. Silky strands of ebony hair, disheveled in his rush, fell in front of amused, blue eyes. Leaning over her slightly, he gave her a roguish grin and said, "Well, that was close, wasn't it?"

Usagi discovered a large lump lodged firmly in her throat, or maybe that was her heart. Quickly, she averted her eyes and firmly told herself to breath regularly. She desperately hoped that he would let go of her, as she could not bring herself to voluntarily step out of his arms. He did, slowly and with a low chuckle, which made the fine hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

When she had finally collected herself, she found Mamoru had returned to choosing the perfect eggplant.

xXx

Mamoru seemed inordinately pleased with himself as he took a seat at the counter of the Crown Game Center. Motoki flipped off the neon "Open" light off and began going about his daily closing ritual, starting with serving Mamoru the last splash of coffee left in the pot. He spoke to his friend cheerfully as he began washing the day's dishes. Behind them, one of the other employees mopped up spilled soda.

"So," Motoki said, tackling the largest and most disgusting dishes first, as was his wont, "How did things go with you and my Usagi today?"

Mamoru genially let Motoki's possessive reference to Usagi slide, in too good a mood to beat his best friend to a pulp just now. "I hate to tell you this, my friend, but you are fighting a loosing battle. Things went perfectly today with _my_ Usako."

Motoki grinned at him, "Usako, huh? So you told her how you felt?"

The blue-eyed man stared at his friend as if he were insane. "Of course not. But we barely fought at all and I made her blush seven times."

Motoki raised an eyebrow.

"Erm..." Mamoru continued, somewhat lamely, "And I got to touch her?"

Motoki smirked, abandoning his dishes for the moment to lean across the counter, close to his friend. In a low, confident voice, Motoki said, "The first thing Usagi did when she got here today was throw her arms around me and thank me for letting her work here." Mamoru frowned but Motoki continued, relentlessly, "And every time I handed her someone's order I made sure to hold her hand a little extra. I'm _sure_ she noticed."

Mamoru felt his blood boiling. Images of Usagi showing off her apron to Motoki and flirting with the man for her entire shift flitted before his eyes. He shoved them down violently and said in a deceptively cool voice, "I told you already. She only acts that way towards you to mask her attraction to me. The more affectionate she is towards you, the better it reflects on her true feelings for me."

Motoki shook his head, grinning in a way that made it quite clear he was unconvinced by his friend's words. He turned away from Mamoru and leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms. "Mamoru," he said, his voice light and unworried, "Have you considered making the moves on Reika? I mean, she's not for me but she's still a great girl. And, you know, the two of you have a lot in common."

Mamoru stared at his friends back for a long moment before getting up and leaving the arcade, silently vowing that tomorrow he would earn a hug from his blonde angel.

Motoki went back to the dishes, still grinning.

xXx

DAY TWO

xXx

To no one's great surprise (besides Usagi), the arcade was packed the next day, mostly with pubescent teenage boys. More so than usual, that is. The female employees of the Crown had taken to glaring at everyone and one had actually dumped a cup of ice cream on a customer's head when he asked why Usagi had not brought it to his table. The male employees were too busy flirting with Usagi to care much.

The center of attention was blissfully unaware of the commotion she was causing. Ever the image of innocence, she attributed the number of customers to the fact that school was out and people had more free time. She might have wondered about the females' attitudes had they spoken to her once all day, but, as it was, she thought they were just very busy. She felt it was really nice of people, who had obviously heard about her money problems, to leave such incredibly generous tips, though.

Mamoru found himself arguing with the clock, trying to convince it to hurry up and get to three.

Needless to say, the clock did not cooperate.

xXx

The key clicked into place and Mamoru swept open the door, ushering Usagi into his apartment. She turned once in place, taking it all in slowly. It was very... clean. Everything was arranged just so and sparkled hygienically. Usagi did not say it aloud, but she was reminded of a hospital room, sterile and cold. She shivered.

"What could you possibly need from me here?" she asked, eyeing the kitchenette floor, which was spotless enough to put even her mother to shame. It took all of Usagi's restraint to keep from mussing things a bit, just on principal.

"Not in here," Mamoru told her, "Back here." He began to lead her down the darkened hallway at the rear of the apartment. Usagi's eyes darted around the area. The front room consisted of both the kitchen and the living room, with a small table pushed against one wall for dining. That left only two possibilities at the end of that hallway and Mamoru had already said that his bathroom was not in need of any cleaning.

Fidgeting with the hem of her blouse and hiding her face so he could not see her blush, Usagi halted Mamoru's progress by saying, "I told you I won't do anything perverted."

He froze, halfway to his bedroom. She did not really think that he would...? Slowly, he turned to face her. He wanted very badly to be angry with her for jumping to such a conclusion about him, but she looked so adorable standing there, utterly flustered, that he did not have it in his heart. With that option closed to him, he decided to mess with her head instead.

That was always more fun, anyway.

"Usagi," he purred, strolling back towards her and laying an arm around her shoulder, "Do I have to remind you that you _need_ me? Just think of the dire consequences should you fail to pay off those porcelain clowns. Terrible, just _awful_." She flinched away from his arm and began to tremble a little. Mamoru immediately regretted his fun.

He sighed and released her, "Come on, Odango-Atama, do you _really_ think I'm that kind of a guy?" His chest felt heavy and tight at the thought that she may well view him as such.

Hazarding a peek up at him from beneath her curled bangs, Usagi squeaked, "Well then why are you taking me..."

Mamoru rolled his eyes and stomped down the hall to his bedroom, flipping on the lights as he went. Usagi hesitantly followed and, when he threw open the door, stared in confusion. The carpet was covered in a white sheet and all of the furniture was pushed to the center of the room and then covered as well. She could make out the form of his bed as well as what she assumed was a dresser and a desk. Everything was blindingly white.

"What...?"

He opened the closet and held up a can for her inspection. Condescendingly, he told her, "We're painting, Odango. I trust that does not offend your delicate sensibilities?"

Her blush was even more pronounced now as she sheepishly took the can from his hands and studied it. As she read the label, though, the rosy tone in her cheeks faded and she crinkled her nose. "No way," she exclaimed, emphatically. "I refuse to take any part in this." She handed the can back to him and turned away, crossing her arms.

Completely dumbfounded, Mamoru looked at the paint, then the girl, then the paint again. Finally, he managed to stammer, with much eloquence, "...huh?"

She whipped around, pigtails flying, to level an accusatory finger at the can of paint in his hands. "I absolutely will not, under any circumstances, put that paint on these walls. It's... It's... _white_," she spat.

Mamoru blinked at her, utterly nonplussed. "My walls are white. My carpet is white. My furniture is white. I _like_ white."

"Exactly," she said, nodding. "This place looks like a hospital room or something, except that they at least put some colorful pictures on the walls. This room is boooooring. I will only help you if we get some different paint."

The confused young man looked back at the can he held. In a somewhat pathetic murmur, he said, "...But I _like_ white..."

xXx

She thought that a nice canary yellow would liven up the room. He had felt that if he could not have white, he would get black. There was a bit of arguing, followed by a little shouting, then a dash of shrieking with a hint of wailing added, just for variety. Only after a harried saleswoman threatened to kick them out of the store did they settle for a rich, royal blue. Both were quite satisfied that they had gotten the last word.

While cleaning up their mess, Mamoru glanced around the room. He had to admit, it did have more personality now. Excited by their task, Usagi had gotten into a creative mood and insisted they pick up a few more things to accent the wall color. He now had a new white _and_ blue bedspread, a blue-glass vase to put atop his dresser, and Usagi was making plans to stencil a white wave-like pattern around the crown of the room as soon as the paint dried.

He schooled his expression to remain cool and detached. It would not do to grin like a fool at the thought of what Usagi and he could accomplish when they worked together. Despite the volatile nature of their partnership, they made a good team. She brought enthusiasm and whimsy while he provided logic and kept things grounded.

Usagi finished pulling masking tape from the window frames and spun around giddily. She had blue paint liberally sprinkled across her nose and cheeks. In addition, it looked as if she had accidentally dragged her right ponytail through the paint can as the bottom four inches of hair were completely coated. She had no conniptions about grinning like a fool.

"Don't you love it, Mamoru? Aren't you glad you listened to me?" She turned her sparkling, baby blue eyes on him. "It's perfect, isn't it?"

His brain told him that this was the ideal time to make a snide comment, which would bring her back to earth and incite a furious argument between the two of them. For once, though, his heart cut his brain off at the pass and seized control of his tongue. "Yeah," he said. "It's perfect."

xXx

"Any luck today?" Motoki asked, dumping the last of the coffee into Mamoru's cup. One of the three female employees who were helping Motoki close the Crown that day wandered by. As she passed the manager, she tripped and accidentally spilled a milkshake all down Motoki's front. The sandy-haired young man laughed it off and changed his apron before he began to sweep behind the counter.

"Yep," Mamoru replied, a smug smirk on his face. "Today she hit me over the head with a paint roller."

"On purpose?"

His smirk spread into a wide grin. "Yep."

Motoki arched a brow at his friend. Another of the female employees walked by, wheeling a mop bucket before her. As she passed Motoki, the wheels on the bucket wobbled and it tipped, drenching the young man up to his knees. He grinned at the girl and assured her accidents happen. As she went to refill the mop bucket, Motoki turned back to Mamoru. "So... A paint roller, huh? You guys are really moving now. When will you be sending out the wedding invitations?"

Mamoru chuckled, "Mock if you want, my friend, but after she hit me she apologized and..." His dark blue eyes went out of focus and his grin went slightly crooked. "She kissed me, to make it better. Right on the top of my head." A little, wistful sigh escaped Mamoru's lips.

Motoki shook his head. Until Usagi came into their lives, he could never have imagined his best friend acting so... _smitten_. It was even worse than Motoki had thought. Usagi really was an amazing girl. "Well," the arcade manager said, "You've only got three days left, so you better get a move on. Kiss or no, I intend to ask her out at the end of this week."

The dark-haired young man's eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth to speak but at that moment, the third female employee walked by and somehow managed to drop three half-eaten cheeseburgers directly down the back of Motoki's shirt. On accident, _of course_.

As Mamoru watched his friend tell the girl in a strained voice that he completely understood how those things could happen, a wicked grin lit his face. "Man," he said, "If you keep Usagi working here you had better hire a personal body guard. Otherwise I don't know how you'll survive to ask her out."

xXx

DAY THREE

xXx

The Crown Game Center was more crowded than it had been in years. Usagi found herself nearly overwhelmed keeping everyone served. Fortunately, no one seemed to mind waiting forty or fifty minutes for his or her orange sodas. She had long ago given up on actually remembering people's orders, but they all seemed happy enough to receive orange soda. After all, who doesn't like orange soda?

Besides Mamoru, that is. Mamoru made it quite clear that he would take coffee and only coffee. Somehow, Usagi managed to remember.

It was nearly two-thirty and Usagi was happily scooping another overly large tip into her now heavy apron pockets, flashing a sparkling smile at the boys who had left it. Suddenly she screeched and spun around, her eyes wide. She whipped out an accusatory finger to point at a nondescript young man and hissed, "You!"

Before she could even begin her angry tirade, the young man was lifted out of his seat by the collar of his t-shirt, which proudly displayed the name of the latest punk-band fad across the front. Mamoru held the squirming boy firmly, his body tense and his eyes filled with dancing fire. Usagi saw Motoki wading his way through the crowd towards them as well.

"What did he do?" Mamoru asked. Usagi cringed a little; she had never heard his voice sound that cold.

Suddenly aware of the plethora of eyes on her, Usagi felt a blush creeping up her neck and across her cheeks. "He... touched me," she whispered.

"Touched you." His voice was death; his prisoner began to tremble.

Her eyebrows drew down as fury washed over her anew. "On my... well, not where he should have touched me." She felt tears of hurt and rage form at the corners of her eyes. She took a deep breath to keep herself from kicking her abuser with all her might.

If she thought she was angry over the event it was nothing on the way Mamoru looked. The offending boy had gone completely white as two dark-blue daggers threatened torture and slow, agonizing death. Motoki had finally arrived on the scene, just in time to hear what had happened. He spun on the young man and, poking him in the chest, said, "You are hereby banned from the Crown Game Center forever." Feeling that this was not quite dramatic enough, Motoki leapt up on a table and proclaimed, "And anyone else who touches Usa- any female employee here will feel _my_ wrath!"

No one looked overly intimidated by this until, in a barely audible voice, Mamoru said, "And mine." A shudder ran through the room.

xXx

"So," Usagi chirped, skipping alongside Mamoru, who tried to pretend that she was annoying him, "What horrible and disgusting job do you have for me today?"

Mamoru kept his face turned towards the street before him but regarded her out of the corner of his eye with one brow quirked. She grinned somewhat sheepishly and said, "Well, you know what I mean."

"Well first off you can finish that stencil in my bedroom so we can finally put all my furniture back in place. After that..." He tucked his hands into the pockets of his dark jeans and pursed his lips. "Hmm... good question."

Usagi rolled her eyes, "You mean you're paying me but you don't actually have a job for me?" Her smile was wicked. "You know, if you weren't such a neat-freak this wouldn't be a problem. I suppose you could always hire me to clean my own room. I know my mom, at least, would appreciate it."

Mamoru snorted, "My apologies to your mother, but if I'm paying _my_ money I'd like to reap the benefits myself." He looked thoughtful as they swerved off the sidewalk to stroll through the park, which was a short cut to his apartment. "Well, Odango-Atama, what are you _good_ at?"

The girl blinked at her companion in surprise, and then it was her turn to look perplexed. "Um... I can make gravity-defying hairstyles?" Mamoru did not look overly impressed. Usagi sighed and considered again. "I can do a great manicure or pedicure. I can bake passable chocolate chip cookies. I can color-coordinate like nobody's business (and you could use it). And..." She pondered. "And dogs and small children love me."

Mamoru snorted, "Quite a resume, Odango. But that last one doesn't count."

"Why not?"

"Simple. Because _everybody _loves you."

Usagi spun to face him, a sly look on her face. Batting her eyelashes and puckering her lips in an extremely over-the-top way, she said, "Oh, do _you_ love me, Mamoru?"

Mamoru coughed and quickly replied, "I meant everyone with _only_ half a brain loves you."

"Aww!" Usagi cried, latching onto his arm and nuzzling him with the side of her head, "I love you too, Mamochan!"

Mamoru was too busy blushing to argue. The word 'Mamochan' spinning through his head.

xXx

Mamoru squirmed and whined, not for the first time, "I cannot _believe_ I am paying you to do this!"

Usagi giggled and replied, "I told you to hold still. Relax and you might actually enjoy this." As she returned to filing Mamoru's toenails she could not help but ask, "Are you sure you just want clear polish? I have a shade of dusky rose that would look just _lovely_ on you."

Mamoru groaned.

xXx

That night, as Motoki closed up the Crown Arcade he made sure that only male employees were assisting him. He stared in consternation as his best friend sat at the counter, completely ignoring the cup of coffee before him. Mamoru stared vacantly into space. Motoki had tried everything to rouse the other man's attention, but he had only snapped out of it once, just long enough to murmur something that sounded suspiciously like, "Mamochan," before he floated off again.

Motoki could only chuckle to himself as he set about wiping down the counter.

xXx

DAY FOUR

xXx

The door chimed and Usagi spun with a bright smile, calling a welcome. She was wearing her blue apron, though she had livened it up by adding a couple of cute pink pins. Underneath she wore a pink dress, which flared out around her knees and had matching pink sneakers. She had her hair in its usual style except that she had braided her pigtails (one person had found a three-foot long strand of blond hair in their orange soda yesterday and there was very little doubt as to who it belonged to) and they ended in blue and pink bows. She looked adorable, if she did say so herself.

The stylish woman who entered the Crown did not take any notice. Her long red-brown hair fell in perfect waves to the small of her back and her outfit simply screamed money. She swept in like a duchess and eyed her surroundings somewhat disdainfully. Her expression lightened significantly when those self-assured eyes fell on Mamoru, at his usual place at the counter.

So intent was Mamoru on _not_ staring at Usagi possessively, he did not notice the newcomer's approach until she had perched herself on the stool next to him. "Mamoru," she purred, nearly startling him into falling off his own stool, "It's so good to see you again."

Gathering himself and assuming his usual cloak of cool indifference, Mamoru replied, "Hello Reika, I don't see you here often. Are you looking for Motoki?"

Reika's eyes drifted reluctantly from Mamoru to Motoki. The sandy-haired man was currently leaning over the counter and making eyes at a blushing Usagi. Easily matching Mamoru for coolness and indifference, she replied, "He seems a bit... busy. Anyway, I have not had a chance to speak with you in ages."

Usagi glanced over from where Motoki was dripping compliments about her appearance and the way she was attracting customers. Her eyes fell, unsurprisingly, on Mamoru and the woman leaning close to him, speaking softly. Usagi's blood ran successively cold then hot then cold again.

Then she got mad.

xXx

Were Mamoru not the epitome of cool grace and sophistication, he would have squirmed. He was not sure how, but he was certain that this was somehow Motoki's fault. The wide, amused grins his friend occasionally shot him did not relieve his suspicions in the least.

Reika had remained seated next to him for the entire three hours of Usagi's shift. She chatted about any and everything and no amount of indifference on Mamoru's part seemed to get the message across that he simply was not interested. What was worse, as she talked she leaned closer and closer to him until he had to edge away from her lest she end up in his lap.

As three o'clock rolled around, Mamoru was more than happy to make his excuses to get away from Reika. As he stood to leave, though, she pressed her final, and most deadly, attack. Standing with him, she pressed her hands against his chest and leaned close. Feeling distinctly uncomfortable, Mamoru would have backed away except that, if he had, he was certain the woman would tumble face-first onto the arcade floor.

"It has been _so_ nice talking with you," Reika purred, staring up at him with deep, brown eyes. "I really hope we can get together again sometime. You are wonderful company, Mamoru." Before Mamoru could think to react, Reika bounced up on her toes and laid a long, lingering kiss on his cheek.

He did not feel it. The only thing he felt were a pair of blazing baby-blues, glaring murder at him from across the room.

xXx

They walked in silence through the park, which led to Mamoru's apartment. Neither looked at the other; both were intent on their own churning thoughts. The phrase, 'the tension could be cut with a knife,' had no place in this scenario.

It would take a chainsaw, at the very least.

At last, as they were passing by a bed of bright orchids, Usagi lifted her nose and asked, "So, is she your girlfriend?"

"No," he muttered, sullenly. He could not believe she had done that in front of Us... _everyone_. He seethed; completely convinced that Motoki was behind it all. Reika was his ex-girlfriend, after all. He had even suggested that Mamoru try to hook up with her. Murder danced in his cerulean eyes.

The petite blonde sniffed, "Sure _looked _like she was. She was practically draped all over the entire day. Not that _I_ care if she's your girlfriend. Why would _I_ care? I guess I just wouldn't have pictured you with such a... a... _floozy_."

Mamoru's temper, already at the breaking point, snapped. "You're one to talk," he snarled, "The way you throw yourself at Motoki is sickening."

Usagi gasped and rounded on him, her pink skirt flaring around her long legs. "Maybe I'm just being friendly; did you ever think of that? Oh, I guess you wouldn't, would you? You've never been friendly to anyone in your life!"

"You're right, I haven't," he spat. "I'm a cold, heartless jerk. I would never do something as nice as offering to help a girl out when she needed money by paying her to do all sort of chores that I could just as easily handle on my own. I'm so cruel I doubt the idea would even occur to me."

Her brows drew down sharply, her ears turning red and her cheeks quickly following suit. "You think that one kindness will redeem all of the mean things you've said to me since we met? You think that helping me out this time makes up for being a completely insensitive bully the rest of the time? Well I have news for you, _Mamoru-Baka_, I don't _need_ your help. I made enough in tips by the end of the second day to pay off those stupid clowns."

"Then why did you keep working for me, Odango? Think it was funny that I put up with your annoying presence and actually had the idiocy to pay you for it? Just laughing at me behind my back?"

The park had suddenly gone very quiet. Birds had stopped singing, children stared with wide eyes, and everyone gave the two raging teenagers a very, _very_ wide berth.

Usagi's eyes were fire. "I don't have to put up with this," she hissed.

Mamoru's eyes were ice. "You're right, you don't. You are _fired._"

She froze, her back stiffening and the color draining from her countenance. The wide-eyed hurt on her face was like a bucket of ice water on Mamoru's temper. Immediately he regretted his words but before he could form an apology, the young woman's eyes filled with tears, her lower lip began to tremble and she ran from him as fast as her legs could carry her.

Mamoru stared after her for a very long time before he turned and trudged home.

xXx

DAY FIVE

xXx

Mamoru raised his head from where it was cradled in his arms on his kitchen table. He forced bleary eyes to focus on the red numbers of the digital clock on the stove. Three twenty-eight in the afternoon, it told him. Too late to pick Usagi up, not that she would be willing to go with him. Too late to apologize, not that he deserved forgiveness. Too late to tell her how he felt, not that she would ever accept him. His head dropped back into his arms with a soft thud.

Motoki would have asked her out by now. They were probably planning a romantic get-together right then. It would, of course, involve candlelight, soft music, and fluttering hearts; all of the things that Mamoru wanted to give her. He glared at the tabletop, wrapping one arm around his head and digging his hand in his ebony hair, his head pounding. Could she not see that Motoki could never love her as he could? Mamoru would treat her like a princess, like the precious, beautiful thing that she was.

Of course she could not see that. Mamoru never showed it to her.

And now it was too late.

A guttural growl rose in his throat as his temples throbbed. Dark-blue eyes caught his reflection in the mirror across the room. He snorted. He looked terrible. His hair was disheveled, dark circles had formed around his eyes, and his clothes were wrinkled and mussed. Despair swept around him, settling over his shoulders like a blanket. He clutched it to him, reveling in its miserable warmth.

At last, like a tiny spark from beneath the ashes, Mamoru's natural stubborn streak came into play. Who was _she_ to reject _him_? They were perfect for each other, and she was just going to have to give him another chance to tell her that. After all, they fought all the time. Heck, their arguments were practically legendary.

Suddenly, Mamoru found himself on his feet. He decided that he had better go find her before he lost all nerve again.

xXx

She was in the park. She sat, to his surprise, on a bench next to the bed of orchids, solemnly nursing a mint chocolate-chip ice cream cone. When she saw him coming, she stiffened and bowed her head over the treat as if hoping he would not notice her.

_Small chance of that **ever **happening_, Mamoru thought to himself as he dropped onto the bench next to her.

There was a long, awkward silence. Usagi stared at her ice cream, but seemed to forget that she was supposed to be eating it. Mamoru studied the orchids, noting absently that as soon as people had spied the two of them sitting next to each other they began to avoid that particular flowerbed. Finally, Usagi spoke.

"Motoki told me about your stupid agreement. Don't even bother asking, I already chose him."

Mamoru felt a crushing pain in his chest and it took him a minute before he could remember how to breathe. Slowly clenching and unclenching his fists, he managed to force his tongue to obey him once more. "Why... Can I ask why you chose him?"

She sniffed, finally remembering to lick her cone just before melting ice cream dribbled all over her fingers. "I would think it's obvious," she said. He winced, closing his eyes tight but unable to avoid her relentless voice. "I don't fight with Motoki all the time; he actually treats me like a real person. Also, it doesn't seem like there would be all that much security with you. There's really not a lot of reason for you to keep me around, you know?" Mamoru opened his mouth angrily to argue, but Usagi spoke over him. "Anyway, with Motoki I'll get free ice cream and stuff."

He was on his feet before he even realized he had moved. He glowered down at her, fury bubbling to the surface. "Free ice cream?" he roared. "_Free ice cream?_ What the hell kind of basis is that for a relationship?" Once again, he moved without thought, taking her by the shoulders and pulling her to her feet. "Don't you care at all that I'm hopelessly in love with you?" he pleaded.

Usagi stared at him; her eyes had gone huge and her mouth hung slightly open. With a soft plop, her ice cream fell from numb fingers to splatter on the hot cement between them. She was, without a doubt, completely and utterly confused beyond words.

Mamoru blinked at her twice. She still had not moved. A tickle of suspicion poked at his mind and, cringing, he asked, "What agreement did Motoki tell you about, Usako?"

Her eyes still did not focus and she spoke as if on autopilot. "He told me that at the end of the week you were both going to try to get me to work for you permanently. I agreed to work part-time at the arcade for the rest of the summer."

Mamoru gritted his teeth and, reluctantly, released Usagi's shoulders. Heavily, he sank down onto the bench. Very slowly, enunciating each word with precision, he spoke. "I... am... going... to... _kill_... him."

Perhaps it was Mamoru's words or perhaps it was the melted ice cream, which had started to seep into Usagi's flimsy sandals, but at last, her shock wore off enough for her to turn to him. Usagi was the queen of blushes but Mamoru had never seen her blush quite so fiercely or quite so adorably. She could not meet his eyes, but neither could she hide the tiny, radiant smile that tugged at her lips. In a very quiet voice, she asked, "Did you... just call me Usako?"

xXx

Motoki glanced up at the clock. Any minute now Mamoru would come in, as usual, to keep him company while he closed shop. Motoki had sent the rest of his employees home. He wanted to spare them the sight if, as was very possible, he was to be brutally murdered that night. The only one who remained was Reika. She absolutely refused to leave.

At that moment she was perched quite happily on Motoki's knee, her head cradled against his shoulder.

As if on cue, the little bell chimed, announcing that someone had entered the arcade. If all had gone according to plan, Mamoru would be entering as a much happier man than he had left the night before. If not... If not, Motoki hoped someone would find the last will and testament he had carefully drawn up and hidden behind the milkshake machine.

With great trepidation, the sandy haired young man raised his eyes to the doorway. Mamoru stood alone, framed in the rectangular glass. His eyes bore down on Motoki with a look that promised great suffering in the very near future. The young man paled as Mamoru took a threatening step forward.

In a low, menacing tone, he said, "Motoki, my _friend_, if I was not so happy right now, I would _kill_ you."

Motoki only had time to blink once, completely nonplussed, before Mamoru turned around and headed out the door. Through the glass, Motoki saw what he had missed before. A petite blonde stood on the sidewalk. As Mamoru exited, she rushed over to him. He wrapped one arm around her waist and grinned down at her, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek before bending to give her a warm kiss, which she returned with a vengeance.

Then, with his arm still around her waist, Mamoru and Usagi walked slowly away from the arcade while, from her position on Motoki's knee, Reika laughed gaily.

xXx

THE END

xXx


End file.
